Whatever He Says

 The sun shone bright and the day was full of the promise of spring as our c ars converged on the small church standing at the side of a quiet country road . It was a glorious day for our purpose: remembering someone who would have loved to be there but who had more pressing business in heaven. The gathering was informal and simple, just  staff  of the agency that had supported the person as well as his friends and family. We simply sang songs that were his favourites and shared our memories.We laughed, and wiped away some tears and we all left with more than we came with. I loved all of the stories, but two shared by one of his support staff stuck with me. To understand them you need to know two things: he loved to sing and was irrepressible if the moment called for song, and he had an intellectual disability.  At one event they were at, he left his seat, mounted the podium and took the microphone. Then he sang the song, "Jesus Loves Me," and his staff said there...

By Belinda This is a very busy week, with a three day work conference to attend, so I went back to the archives and found this post from November 4 last year when I was on my way home from a visit to England.  I enjoyed re-reading it. I hope you don't mind being served some reruns! :) Oh, I just noticed that last year's comments came up too, as I republished! Just in case you wondered where they came from. :) I was going home to Canada and my brother Rob drove me to Birmingham Airport to catch a coach to Manchester, the airport my plane was leaving from. Rob dropped me off half an hour before the coach was due to leave. The clocks had gone back an hour the night before and I was glad for the extra time that morning. I had a large knapsack on my back and from behind me I heard a voice warning me that someone was entering the bus shelter and obviously wanted to avoid me swinging around and hitting him. I turned to see a young man, p...

I attended a funeral mass this week, for a man who was obviously well loved by his family and church community. I arrived just before the service started and the church was already full, with few places to sit, but my co-worker Elaine (the same Elaine who nudged me in 2006, to write this blog), waved me over to an empty seat beside her in the back row. The choir sang beautifully; the priest officiating said that you can always tell how much someone was loved by the choir. They filled many rows at the front of the church. But it was the tribute given by the man's daughter that touched me most of all. I don't know how she managed to be as composed as she was. When my dad died I remember the overwhelming exhaustion of grief; our raw hearts laid bare. We gratefully leaned on the strength of a gentle vicar who asked us who Dad was and then said the words we wanted to say to honour him. So I admired the stalwartness of this young woman who did what I couldn't, and her sister and ...

Sometimes it is hard to see beyond the difficulty of circumstances and the struggle of the immediate. Bills overwhelm, sickness lingers, responsibilities demand, and problems mount. We acknowledge with the psalmist, " Thou hast made Thy people experience hardship; Thou hast given us wine to drink that makes us stagger." Psalm 60:3 And yet these trials test our faith and produce endurance. God wants to make us, not break us. This week I've had to preach to myself. Jason separated his shoulder Monday evening, our sump-pump broke causing a flood in our utility room, I've been battling a cold for the fifth week, and I got sick Saturday. After struggling with my inadequacies in parenting throughout the week and coming up discouraged, I was rebuked at a family gathering on Sunday by a family member who has never spoken any words of affirmation into my parenting. My trials, in the light of many others, are small. And yet, by Sunday evening I was digging in scripture for en...